Less than a Game
by Raze Occam
Summary: When Bubbles is sick, Blossom convinces Buttercup to play house with her.


_Warning: the following fic contains femslash if you squint through thick spectacles and stand your head. If you are offended by such things, by all means don't squint._

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><p>The suggestion hung heavy in the air, like a fog that unintentionally strangled all replies and dissensions; when they had sat in silence for a few moments, just marinating in it, Buttercup answered.<p>

"Why now?" She had rather been enjoying smashing her fire truck repeatedly against the wall and making sound effects. She wondered how someone as boring as Blossom could possibly get bored.

"I don't know. Bubbles would play normally but..." Blossom shrugged. Buttercup fiddled with the tiny plastic ladder.

So the only reason she'd want to play with her was because Bubbles was sick. Great.

"Don't you have, like, egghead stuff to do or something?" She felt oddly defensive. Maybe it was the feeling of being second pick, or the knowledge that she would eventually have to give in and do it. Buttercup never really wanted in on Bubbles' and Blossom's house games, as she found playing with action figures and cars infinitely more entertaining, but still.

"What do you mean 'egghead stuff'?" Blossom griped, "Just because I'm the smart one doesn't mean I want to spend all day doing homework."

Buttercup found this genuinely surprising.

"Well, what kind of house game?" She offered her approval cautiously and vaguely. Blossom took it as an affirmation.

"Oh, it's one I thought of this morning! It's where there's a mom and dad who are both doctors and-"

As Blossom launched into her explanation, Buttercup noted the main points.

A couple of doctors who live in Colorado with their three children, two daughters and a son; the oldest daughter is a lawyer and the younger ones are twins. Early on she came to the conclusion it was boring as all hell.

Still, there were only so many times she could mutter "kablooie" and have it retain its novelty.

"...And Hunchback can be the son?" Blossom seemed to be bargaining now. Buttercup just nodded, as she hadn't been listening too intently. She did, however, see a single problem in the plan.

"Alright. Sure. So who's gonna be the mom and the dad?" The question was offhand, practical. Blossom looked sheepish.

"I thought you could be the dad; usually, Bubbles is the mom but I'd kinda like to do it for once." She looked at her feet.

Buttercup didn't really care one way or the other-though, to be honest, she disliked the idea of her being the mother and Blossom being the father. It was off-putting, somehow. Besides, she'd probably make an awful mom anyway.

It turned out Octi had played the role of the son previously, but Blossom grudgingly let Hunchback take his place; Octi was currently in the grip of a drowsy child with a runny nose.

They set about gathering props and putting the set itself together. Blossom took Buttercup's suggestion to build a fort out of sheets up on the bed (It _was _in Colorado, or so went the reasoning) for the house, and while Buttercup searched for the doll furniture that was buried somewhere in the toy box. She found them eventually, beneath piles of scratchy little plastic army men.

"The things I do for you..." she groused under her breath. She had the inkling that "you" wasn't specific enough, but chose not dwell on it.

"Hey, Buttercup! I found more stuff!" Blossom chirped. Buttercup carefully extricated herself from the tangle of molded plastic.

She had, on hand, a number of clothing items wrapped up in an extra sheet. Buttercup only noticed this because one of the Professor's ties hung out of the top.

"'Kay. I found the furniture." She deposited the tiny wooden chairs and tables on the edge of the bed, then returned to Blossom to suit up.

"Alright, just hold on a sec-" Blossom looped the black tie around Buttercup's neck and set about tying it. She had a look of intense concentration on her face. Buttercup felt a small twinge in her cheek when Blossom's hands ghosted across her face occasionally.

"Are you done yet?" Buttercup grumbled. If it was going to take this long, the time might have been better spent smashing her firetruck against the wall a few more times. She was also feeling strangely antsy, a feeling she attributed to fear of strangulation rather than the twitch in her cheek.

"Almost. It's the first time I've tried this, so bear with me." Blossom took a step back to look at her work.

Contrary to Buttercup's fears, the tie was neatly knotted around her neck-however, it was longer than her torso and hung down onto the floor.

Blossom floated there for a second, then clicked her tongue.

"I'll be back!" She zipped out of the room. Buttercup stood silently for a moment.

"Here we go," Blossom appeared suddenly and positioned a pedestrian fedora on Buttercup's head and one of the Professor's pipes in her mouth. She bit it experimentally.

"How does it look...?" It wasn't really about the clothes. There was something weird going on at that moment.

"Perfect. I'll be back with the last thing." There was a flash of pink light. Another when she returned, her hair out of its usual bow. It was always a little odd for Buttercup, seeing Blossom without it; it was just so...it was so much a part of her image. That was definitely it.

"Okay, are we gonna start?" Buttercup floated up towards the fort. Blossom's hair was slightly wild from the dashing, so she smoothed it a little.

Buttercup nodded, then climbed up on the bed, and tried not to trip on the tie.

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><p><em>Le Fin.<em>


End file.
